Thoughts of Rationalism
by yiyjfgyty
Summary: Peace, Namikawa ponders, is an interesting subject. Namikawa and Mido, oneshot.


Thoughts of Rationalism

He examines the sleeping figure with curious eyes, a well-trimmed eyebrow raised in the utmost of interest. In a world of cooperate delegations and treaties made behind secretive doors (concealing even more secretive meetings), it is rare that the man- only 31, yet holding the air of one much older and wiser than that- feels or sees any form of peace. The two senses combined made for something truly uplifting. His mouth twitches, and those who don't actually know him, mere observers, would argue until the day they died that it was the beginnings of a smile. But really, he is thinking. Which isn't too rare, but certainly note-worthy in cases such as these.

Peace. It was nothing more than an idea, really, spoken of by politicians and delegates to get the Average Joe on his or her side. But, Reiji Namikawa is no Average Joe. He has seen too much in this world- Especially in this year of 2003, where the unknown and possibly inhuman forces of Kira lurked in every corner- to believe in such trifle things as peace. It was all just words, mindless babble that he didn't lower himself to listen to. He dares to move, reaching upwards to tuck a stand of otherwise perfectly groomed black hair behind his ear. Even at six in the morning, Namikawa will not allow himself to be consciously unappealing, or at least concerning the matters he could fix while laying down, unable to move.

His paralysis does not come from laziness, the unwillingness to roll out of bed and start the day. To be honest, if it was up to him, Namikawa would have preferred to be up half an hour ago. However… He bites back a chuckle. He is a realist, not heartless. Namikawa is well aware of the tug around his mid-back, trapping him in one's fear that he had any indication of leaving. His shower and coffee delayed, the raven-haired business man realizes that he is much more content with watching his partner doze.

He wonders what it must be like, to sleep without a care in the world. Automatically, he corrects himself. No. Everybody he knows has a care in the world. Some are just able to hide it better. A light smirk crosses Namikawa's face. Despite all of the information he had learned in his pricy, well-respected college and all of the adopted tricks of the trade he had mastered over the years, it was this simple ability that still managed to allude him. _How wonderfully ironic_, he thinks, _To see everything you strive for directly in front of you_. And for once, his status has absolutely nothing to do with it.

The money, he has. The car, top of the line and sitting pretty in the reserved parking lot of his apartment complex. There are many material desires men crave, and Namikawa has them all. Yet, where was his happiness? Some days, he expects it to arrive on his doorstep, packaged in brown and mailed from God himself, a reward for thirty-one years of hard work. But, until this point, it was something he never craved. It was just a nice thought. He chuckles at this. Like peace.

The figure laying besides him shifts, and Namikawa freezes. Has he woken him? When the figure mummers something incomprehensible, nuzzling his body closer to the heat that Namikawa's own body radiates, only then does the businessman relax. It's amazing, really, to see such a normally collected man have his emotions change on the turn of a dime. He exhales through his nose, allowing himself to sink further under the large, black comforter housing the two. He catches something blinking in the sunlight out of the corner his eye, a wine glass. He has the inkling to get up and bring the glass into the kitchen, but again remembers the arms. Namikawa's mouth twitches again, however the corners of his mouth curl in a bit. A cross of two options.

His mind takes him back to the night before, when the wine glass had been brought into the picture. The bottle had also been brought, if Namikawa remembered correctly. Not seeing it, he was left to wonder where it had gone, and prayed with a twinge of bitterness that it hadn't knocked over during the night. Namikawa blushes. _No_, he reprehends, _Not in that sense_. He wonders briefly if he'll forever see things in such improper terms. It's not an answer that takes too long to figure out.

_Ah, but enough of that. _Back to last night,. Closing his eyes, Namikawa shuts his mind down, whiting out all worries of coffee and work and stains on the carpet. All he wants to do, corny as it sounds, is think about last night.

He recalls the embarrassment that had taken over him when he discovered he only had one clean glass left, even though Mido told him not to worry about it, they didn't have to drink. Despite this, he had managed to convince Mido to take the last glass, anyway. He also recalls the way how, after feeling guilty, Mido took out the cloth for his glasses and put it over the spot where his lips had graced the rim of the glass. _Go ahead, I don't mind_.

Thinking back on it, Namikawa wonders if his decision had been conscious or the fault of a stronger power. He had looked down at the wine glass, sitting expertly in his elegantly shaped hands, and shook his head. _I have no reason to believe that you're sick_, Namikawa had said with the smallest of smiles, saved only for Mido. _And besides, it's not like you're lower than I am_. He had passed the cloth back to his brunette friend in the same time span he had brought the glass of red wine to his lips, delighting himself in the rich flavors of the Pétrus- It almost _tasted_ expensive. He looked over the rim to stare at the closest thing he has to a friend in this world, to examine his face. It didn't make sense. _Perhaps it is the wine_, Namikawa had thought, that had colored Mido's cheeks in the faintest hues of red. Maybe he really was sick. _Is there something wrong_? Namikawa asked, truly worried for Mido's health. The other man's reaction was too quick, his head bobbing up and down in agreement before he had even had the chance to finish his sentence. Namikawa had smirked, seeing straight through Mido's lies. He wasn't sick; he wasn't drunk. Only caught off guard.

_I think it'd be best if you were to lay down_. Namikawa instructed. Mido shook his head, tried to make up excuses.

_No, no_. he said, raising a hand to pardon himself. _Really, I'm feeling fine. I'm your guest, and--_ Mido's griping was soon silenced by Namikawa. Or rather, Namikawa's finger.

_Shh. That's enough_. Namikawa muttered softly, removing his fingers from Mido's lips. The brunette's face flared up again. _I'll escort you the bedroom. And, don't worry- I'll bring the wine. _

Still deep in the memory, Namikawa only hears his chuckle, not physically feeling the action. Mido's resistance had been like a child's, an entire encyclopedia's worth of excuses and subject-changers flying at Namikawa at speed of sound. The black-haired man had dismissed them all, paying him no mind as he brought the man into the bedroom, making him move onto the bed. Namikawa joined him, sitting on the edge. He smiled and leaned over, removing Mido's glasses and placing them on the nightstand. _I don't see why this is so much of a bother to you_. The businessman teased, casting an amused glace over at Mido. _You've…'slept over' before_. To an onlooker, it would only now start to seem that there was more between the two men than what had originally met the eye. At first, Mido was silent.

_I know_, the brunette had finally muttered, _But it's the first time it's taken less than a glass of wine to get me into bed_. Namikawa had been unable to help himself; he laughed.

_Well, it's not like I've ever taken advantage of you_. He responded. He was met with a sudden weight on his lap, and looked down. There was Mido's head, resting there as if the other man's lap was a pillow instead of two legs.

_How long has it been? _Mido inquired, and Namikawa did not need to ask for specifics.

_About three months, if I remember correctly_. Namikawa responded. He always remembered correctly. _Why?_

Mido's answer again took some time. _Because_, he said slowly, making sure to lean his head up at the perfect angle, so brown eyes collided head-on with blue, _We haven't done much of anything yet_.

It was after this point that thoughts were not recalled in words, but with actions and sounds. Actions and sounds, Namikawa considers carefully with a blush, that should not be deeply thought about at that point in time.

There is a stirring at his chest, and Namikawa blinks back the haze of his thoughts. In the dim tranquility of his bedroom, the yawn that would have normally been barely audible that had escaped his partner's mouth echoes into the raven-haired man's eardrum, and he smiles because of it. He allows himself to speak, if not just a whisper. "Good morning, Mido-san."

He feels the chuckle on his chest, as warm as freshly baked bread. "There's no need to be so formal with a lover, wouldn't you agree?" Once the impact of Mido's sentence fully hits the men, they are silent. Awkwardly silent. The brunette realizes his mistake, and corrects it. "It's early." he mutters.

Looking upwards, Namikawa blinks. "Indeed it is." He looks down at the previously sleeping figure and smiles; Again, one of genuine happiness, reserved just for his friend. "Maybe we should stay in bed for a while longer."

Mido then nods. "I like the way you think." he says, and then proceeds to bury himself back into the sanctuary of Namikawa's arms. The warmth of Reiji's smile lingering on his face, the black-haired man sinks his head down back into the pillows, shutting his sky-blue eyes. _Perhaps_, he thinks, a final thought, _Peace is achievable after all_.


End file.
